The Demon's Child
by Levi PhantomAckerman
Summary: A mysterious demon and a young noble boy grow close, closer than prey and predator, simpleton and noble, master and servant. What will they do when they realize they both share the 'improper' feelings? Will they act upon it, or will they ignore it and hope it goes away? SebaCiel.
1. Chapter One-His Butler, In Love

**Sebastian:**

As the butler of two years and the Queen's Watchdog's Contractor (a supernatural deal sealed by an imagined name used to attain ones desires in exchange for the soul that knits to the demon's like blankets), Sebastian knew that something was bothering Ciel Phantomhive lately-more than usual. Not only was the thirteen-year-old's angelically beautiful face perpetually sunken in a look of blank gloominess, he had also started to ignore his butler's presence almost completely: speaking to him only when he was required to, passing him by without a second-or even a first-glance, and overall just acting as though his little mind was engrossed in only himself.

The blank gloominess to the boy's features wouldn't have been an abnormal thing-the boy normally carried expressionless faces and a brooding azure eye. It was the _ignoring_ that in fact got Sebastian vexed; suspicious. Normally, Sebastian was the one person Ciel willingly spoke to; the first person he'd turn to in a nasty situation; the first person he'd sought his eyes for in the room. Now that had changed, and the demon wanted immensely to know what poison was flooding the little one's mind-whether it be curiosity, or something else, something that bled deeper...

Sebastian sighed.

Cook breakfast.

Make tea.

Scold useless servants prone to inevitable disaster.

Wake up the young master.

Just the normal, tedious timetable.

All for one soul.

One highly _desirable_ soul.

Sebastian finished stirring the pot of tea and hefted it up, setting it on the blinking tray alongside Ciel's choice of breakfast with a metallic rattly clang. He could not help but pause and gaze awedly at his visage trapped in the ethereal curve of the shimmering utensil one called a spoon as he pulled it out the reddish brown liquid steaming softly. A sharp face structure, a creamy complexion, silky onyx hair and dull light brown eyes. His young master had certainly done a good job on him. With another sigh, he slowly unpeeled his fingers, one by one, from the intricately engraved handle of the spoon and set it warily aside. The sun rose dangerously higher, spilling watery light through the pellucid windows, the grandfather clock ticking steadily with the sound like a dying heart, as if a reminder of the time ticking hastily by.

The door of his master's bedroom swung open obediently under the familiar touch of the butler's long-fingered, gloved hand. He ripped the velveteen curtains back, almost reluctantly as he tore his eyes away from the sleeping adolescent sprawled in the ivory-sheeted bed. Morning light, a warm lightly-shaded golden block, spilled inside and threw the ornate room's features into sharp relief. "Young master. It is time to wake up."

 **Ciel:**

"Young master. It is time to wake up." A butler in black, voice like silk or velvet; bleached over with the sound of curtains being torn aside, setting a warm golden track of rare sunlight illumination across the polished marble floors of the master bedroom.

A young boy of mere thirteen unfolded himself groggily from his nest of blankets with stirs and protesting groans, cloud-grey hair fluffy and dishevelled with sleep. He wiped his sleepy mismatched eyes-one a ocean of azure, and an eerie eye, emblematic with strange ivory symbols, the colour of pretty violet, _and as if sensing something vital, the identical Mark burned slightly on the back of Sebastian's hand, under his white kids glove, like it was being drawn over with the tip of a hot poker, sending delicious shivers of pleasure up his spine-_ with the backs of his petite, ethereal hands and then blinked at his black-clad butler enviously through half-slitted eyes.

Sebastian Michaelis, the Phantomhive butler of nearly three years, had an abnormal ability to always seem chipper and cheerful in the mornings, whereas Ciel wished irritably that he could veil himself in the blankets again and sleep until afternoon. But then nothing about Sebastian had been anything other than abnormal. _Demon._ Servant of Hell, Satan himself, things that would send a meek human being screaming in terror. And yet the boy was unfazed.

"Good morning, my Lord. Today for breakfast I can offer a traditional English breakfast, toast, or scones."

'Ciel' sat up sluggishly, his mop of hair falling back fluffily into place with random spikes sticking out here and there like the tentacles of a startled octopus. His voice, when he spoke, was thick not only with a British accent but with sleep. "A scone."

He was unaware that his butler was staring at him.

 **Sebastian:**

"A scone."

Sebastian watched him for a lingering moment, simply observed with his hands halfway toward his master's favourite pot of fruity-scented Earl Grey tea. That gloomy look...-It didn't seem to leave that face as soon as the Earl opened his eyes. Sebastian had long before tried reaching into the other's mind through their Contract, had long before touched those delicate mind walls and tried to feed himself what exactly the boy felt. But his Lord's mind had stubbornly and skilfully resisted, and instead of touching the boy's thoughts he had only received a clammy cold feeling, as if he had been dumped in slimy ice water. This had made Sebastian even more uneasy; normally he could pick out Ciel's thoughts as easily as a child picking out their favourite toys from their toy-box, but now his own mind sprang back like an elastic band.

The child before him looked annoyed. "Sebastian? What is my timetable for today?" His tone suggested he had asked not only the once.

"My apologises, sir." Sebastian bowed in a languid show of remorse, white-gloved hand pressed against his breast, and then collected Ciel's attire for that day from the wardrobe. "Your timetable is free today, my Lord. You may do whatever you please."

The boy looked pleased at this piece of information. "Good. I want to spend some more time in the library, and shall eat up there again today."

Sebastian did not say how he knew Ciel was going to the library to avoid him successfully, or that he knew Ciel had been throwing his food out the window into the shrubbery below. He instead kneeled down and tipped forward into a subservient bow. "Yes, my Lord."

"And one more thing," Ciel groused, waving a commanding hand; Sebastian understood the gesture, and rose. "Do refrain from checking up on me constantly today. If I should need you, I will call for you."

Sebastian gritted his teeth unwillingly, eyes flashing a brief, angry claret like the skin of a ripened apple. There it was-he was pushing him away again, like an unwanted pet. "Yes, my Lord," he returned again, before beginning to dress the boy silently as his wont. Ciel sipped absently at his tea, its pungent fumes mingling with the just as pungent scent of Ciel's very skin and soiled essence. Mouth watering slightly with the scents, Sebastian finished off and leaned back to admire his handiwork. Exquisite, seemly, omnipotent, rich-everything an Earl should look.

However, he had barely any time to admire, since Ciel knocked back the rest of his tea with one swallow and erected himself with a graceful push. There was an almost eagerness to the way Ciel started towards the door, that gave Sebastian an amazed yet pained taut set to his face. "Master~"

But Ciel was already gone, the door swinging shut between them resolutely with a decided _click_.

Sebastian didn't move-whether it was because he was too surprised to, or because he was too intricate staring after his master incredulously and wondering what was happening to him, why there was the gloominess, the ignoring. Perhaps Ciel had changed his mind about wanting the Contract...?

 _No_. No, Sebastian could not think like that-Ciel had promised, had had no doubts. Why would he suddenly change his mind now? But if not that then _what_?

Sebastian stood up slowly. There were chores to do, no matter his... problems? Could he call it that? He had to admit, this whole thing was scraping down on his control, over what though he wasn't quite sure himself. Maybe it was just an aching curiosity; a thoughtfulness; a bafflement. Anyhow, Sebastian was determined to find out what.

As told to, Sebastian didn't bother the Earl until dinner. He knocked on the veneered door twice with his gloved knuckles, waited for permission, and pushed the metal trolley into the room obediently when he heard one.

The library was circular, with a clear-glass ceiling that tapered to a point, as if it had been built as a tower. The edgeless walls were lined with books, the shelves climbing up so high that tall ladders set on casters were placed along them at intervals. They weren't exactly ordinary-looking books either: they were each bound in black or brown leather or velvet, clasped with sturdy-looking locks and hinges of gold and silver, the spines studded up with bits of marble or dully shimmering semiprecious stone.

In the centre of the room a magnificent desk was installed, made of a heavy, great slab of oak that dully shone with years. The slab rested upon the back of two men dressed in hanging cloth, their figures gilded, their faces engraved to give off the air of profound suffering, as if the great weight of the desk was breaking their backs. Sitting behind that desk, on a plush violet velveteen chair, gilded, was Ciel, a book open in his lap. His petite feet were propped up on the desk curtly, and he was slumping back in his chair like he didn't want to be noticed-which, from the sudden tense set of his feminine shoulders, Sebastian guessed he heartedly did.

"Please refrain from putting your feet on the desk, young master." Sebastian carefully rolled the trolley down the circular two steps that led down to the desk, stopping beside the boy. "You're dirtying it, and it was expensive."

"Fine." Scowling with exasperation, Ciel dropped his feet from the desk and smoothed his book out on top of it. Written up the side in bright golden script were the words: _Alice in Wonderland._ Sebastian knew how much Ciel adored reading, found the familiar scent of leather and parchment and dust and ink nearly as comforting as the scent of his deceased mother's rosy perfume. "I know that scent. Is that a roast lunch?"

"Yes, my Lord," Sebastian answered, impressed, scooping up the fine porcelain plate loaded with softly steaming food, the surface warm even through the fabric of his glove, and set it on the table before his master when he shifted his stack of books and wads of papers aside. "It is traditional to have them on a Sunday."

"Hm." Ciel looked uninterested at this piece of information. Sebastian wondered what _did_ interest the boy-what about books engrossed him, perhaps? "You may take your leave."

It was an obvious dismissal, however Sebastian hung there hesitantly, staring at the child he called his master in submission. "My Lord, might I ask-"

There was a heavy thunk, like a brick being dropped to the floor. Sebastian was startled for a moment, before he realized that Ciel had moved his arm and accidently-accidently?-knocked his stack of books off the table; they lay scattered across the floor now, open and gaping, like an offering.

"Excuse me, my Lord." Sebastian tugged his gloves off with his teeth and got on his hands and knees by his master's chair, stacking up his fallen books in a tidy pile. They were worn, it could be seen, in a way that was clear they were not just old but well used, and had been loved. At one book, he paused with it in his hand, eyeing it scanningly, earning a frown from Ciel. "There is a tear, young master. In this book's pages."

"What?"

"Here." He held it up; running down the length of the page-pages, actually-was a gaping rip that fluttered like fishes gills when Sebastian moved the book. For a moment, just a moment, a flicker of uncharacteristic vulnerability flittered across Ciel's face, a remorseful grief. "The pages have torn."

Ciel reached for it, at the same time Sebastian moved to hand it over. Their fingers accidently brushed; Ciel abruptly jerked his hand back, like he'd received a shock of static electricity, the unfortunate book tumbling down to the ground again.

Sebastian stared at him. Ciel was retracting backwards involuntarily in his chair like he wanted it to swallow him in, a defiant blush on his cheeks; his eyes were blown wide slightly. For a moment, Sebastian had thought he'd caught something as their skin had brushed, a strong feeling that washed over him like a warm tidal wave and made his heart beat faster, his stomach turn gooey and flutter like butterfly's wings. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was... No. _No._ Sebastian thought he must have imagined it.

And yet the look on Ciel's face...

Ciel's voice unwillingly came out a little unsteady, yet still his words were firm and unwavering, the words of a commander. "I said you can leave, Sebastian."

"My apologies." Dazed, Sebastian got to his feet, tugged on his gloves again, before bowing courteously. "I'll be taking my leave now, my Lord."

Sebastian left, though his mind was still with the boy. What he had felt... It must have been real. Nothing as vivid, even if momentary, as that could have been imagined up.

Sebastian's mind was plagued with these thoughts until the moment he acted on them. He was waiting in his master's room for him, crudely sat on the end of his bed. If that didn't attract Ciel's attention, Sebastian didn't know what would. His gloved hands were folded in his lap neatly, half reflexively and half so they wouldn't start doing nervous movements-a demon, nervous because of a _human_!

Luckily, Sebastian didn't have to wait long; ten minutes of waiting, before his little Lord walked inside, looking gloomy and exhausted. His visible eye was cast downwards, and for a moment Sebastian wondered if Ciel would carry on to his destination without noticing his butler was there at all. But then he raised his eye, and it locked on Sebastian with a imbuement of thinly veiled startlement-before it skidded away, landing instead on the star-refracting window, framed by velvet curtains. Ciel said nothing, expressionless, just moved on past Sebastian, heading for the window to observe the brilliant skyscape outside, the gentle day long before shattered into a concealing night-

Remembering the flicker of emotion from Ciel he had received at dinnertime, Sebastian boldly caught the boy's wrist, yanking him back, earning an astonished hitching of the breath. Ciel automatically climbed into the demon's lap, delicate ringed hands on his butler's firm shoulders, as Sebastian pulled him that way, hands underneath the boy's calves to prop him up. They moved from the underneath of the boy's thighs then as he moved them to Ciel's lower back, keeping them there firmly, so Ciel could not move from this position, Ciel's inner thighs straddling his outer ones. Ciel's eyes were wide, shocked, his face helplessly ridden with emotion for the first time in-what? Weeks? His cheeks were a cute shade of bubblegum pink.

Sebastian locked his eyes on his, light brown and azure. Ciel looked too surprised to move, frozen in spot, as Sebastian reached behind Ciel's grey head and unknotted the string of his eyepatch, which fell away; the eyepatch fluttered as it fell, soaring, fluttering, hanging, resisting, like a black rose petal caught midair. "Seba~"

But not a word was to be ushered in this discovering moment.

Sebastian silenced him nimbly, clad fingers pressing against petite, pink lips. Ciel trailed off into silence grudgingly, as Sebastian raised his own hands to his own mouth, one after the other, tugging off his gloves and disregarding them to the side. Then he grabbed Ciel's waist tightly, hands curling around the inward curves, lifting his own face up, and reflexively after a hesitating moment Ciel brought his down, and their mouths brushed.

Even as they both froze with surprise, because of unexpectedness or something else, they were kissing. _Ciel. Young master. My Lord. Earl Phantomhive._ He was kissing Ciel Phantomhive, as Ciel was kissing him. Sebastian wondered why Ciel wasn't pulling away-was it because of surprise? Or was it because what Sebastian had received earlier had been legitimate? One hand moved from his waist, pressing against his lower back instead, holding him steady as he moved his mouth skilfully, experiencedly, on his; Ciel, after few moments, arms limply hanging by his sides, tried to match his movements with his own clumsy, soft, inexperienced mouth, deepening Sebastian's surprise further. He realized, after a dazed moment, Ciel was trying to kiss him _back._

Sebastian leaned back slowly until he was lying on his back, Ciel still sat in his lap, face adorably dazed and flushed with healthy colour at losing his very first kiss. His long, black-nailed fingers wound into his shirt, Sebastian pulled Ciel down, taking the light weight of his body on his with the sense of being corresponding jigsaw pieces, the way that they fit together. Their lips met again, and Sebastian ran his hands through Ciel's mop of cloudy hair; it was just as soft as Sebastian had always imagined it to be in his most buried daydreams, like pinfeathers slinking between his fingers; the kitten's fur that he loved so much. He couldn't seem to stop running his hands over him in wonder either-they mapped Ciel's body like he was drawing him, Ciel's breath hot and ragged in his ear and his natural-coloured nails digging into his sheets like he wanted to ravage them apart, fingers shaking, especially when Sebastian's hands found his jackets lapels, ready to push the item of clothing off his shoulders.

Ciel leaned back, and Sebastian felt a slam of uncharacteristic nerves and regret, wondering if characteristically-cold-and-prideful-Ciel was going to yell at him, call him disgusting; maybe even throw a few slaps in there just to illustrate the point. But that's not what he did at all-he instead reached up and tugged at his jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders so his white shirt was fully exposed, and undid the first few buttons of his shirt too; it fell aside, baring a perfect, porcelain shoulder.

Sebastian helped with the rest of the buttons helpfully, before Ciel kicked all the garments off the bed with his now-bare, petite feet. Ciel was slim, fragile, without a single cording of muscle, yet even with the slave mark spiralling in lines and curves on his chest, he was lovely, like the words of a poem. One could see the faint shadows between his ribs, the inward sinking to his stomach, inward curving to his waist, the sharp curve of his collarbone.

Sebastian reached to touch him as they kissed again-asking permission had long before become a distant priority in his mind. His fingers were exploring, fascinated, like a child running about the forest as he brushed his fingers over the mark on his chest, across the slight hollows between his ribs and the flat surface of his stomach, which shuddered involuntarily under his touch. Sebastian was making sure to take exquisite care and lightness, like one did while handing something thin or fragile; the boy was as breakable as he was lovely. However, Sebastian could not stop touching him even if he tried, with all the superhuman strength he had: his hands skimmed the boy's sides, his hips, his shoulders, his chest and stomach, his bare legs where the shorts and knee-high gartered socks did not conceal. Ciel's hands fumbled, shaking vulnerably, as he slid Sebastian's jacket off him and tossed it aside; albeit even when he opened his eyes he couldn't undo Sebastian's shirt, since his hands were trembling to hard. Clumsily he worked the buttons free, tearing the fabric, and said shirt joined their pile of clothes on the floor.

They rolled sideways, Ciel's legs scissoring around his, pressed together exposedly: Chests and chests, mouths and mouths, legs and legs. It was a whole height of impropriety, sin and sin, but they were both damned anyway-and even then Sebastian did not feel as though this was improper, or sinful, or dark, or wrong: he felt like something was being given back to him, something he hadn't realized before then he'd been missing. They pressed together close, closer, until it became hard to breathe, lips working as if one, and yet neither stopped, neither hesitated, never hung back uncertainly, both lost completely in the moment, minds blank and filled with only the feel, scent, nearness of the other. Ciel's hand curled almost protectively around Sebastian's hip, tugging, urging him on wordlessly.

Sebastian obediently reached between the almost nonexistent space between them, fingers curling over the waistband of Ciel's shorts, nails brushing the naked skin of Ciel's hips, causing the younger to tense and jump. His thumb flicked against the button of Ciel's shorts-

And Ciel pulled away, panting hard, jerking himself out of Sebastian's reaching range abruptly. His lips were bruised, his cheeks flushed magenta, and even as he began shaking his head vigorously there was a telltale shimmer to his eyes. Sebastian's eyes flecked open, and he stared at Ciel in hesitant surprise. His mind was whirling. "What's wrong, my Lord?" he asked breathlessly, and then immediately regretted he'd asked; Ciel's eyes darkened.

"You're my butler," Ciel stated, voice slightly husky, yet it held a perceptible shake. He shrunk back. "You aren't supposed to do that to me."

"Master~" Sebastian reached for him, but the boy shook his head again firmly, expressionless once more; he picked up Sebastian's shirt and thrust it at him, and, rejected and hurt, Sebastian took it off him, blinking at him confusedly. Had he been no good?

"Don't ever touch me like that again," Ciel ordered indirectly, and the words sounded almost like they were being pulled out of him; reluctance. This wasn't, hadn't been before, his young master at all: Before, Sebastian would have found Ciel's current lostness and vulnerability amusing, but not anymore; besides, it was shrinking away now, being replaced by that familiar expressionless, cold demeanour. "Do you understand?"

And so Sebastian shrugged on his shirt and tailcoat, buttoned them up, and replied as his wont with confusion, hurt, rejection and anger etched into his pallid face: "Yes, my Lord."


	2. Chapter Two-Strings of The Heart

**Ciel:**

"No, no, _no._ Young master, how many times must I remind you before you finally get it right?"

Small hands abruptly halted their movements beneath the harsh words, oozing snappy impatience; one unveiled azure eye, narrowed and dangerous, raised itself from the elegantly carved violin, imbued with anger and annoyance; the ear-splitting screeching of the bow being dragged back and forth over the violin's strings, angry jerks of the boy's skinny wrists causing such God-awful racket, trailed off into an eerie silence save the angry chuffs of the boy's heavy breathing; their disastrous moods strained tensely in the air of the spacey room like the scent of rosin hovering thickly; and the Earl's exasperated breathing melted into the tenor of his lazy, careless drone as he spoke, amazingly since really the boy wanted to flare venomously in reply. "Am I doing it incorrectly again, Sebastian?"

Sebastian matched the dark eye of the Earl squarely with his own narrowed shadowed brown, not a hint of courteousness or submission flittering across his gaze or the tense set of his scrawny corporeal build; he was dressed in his usual customary butler attire, of course, and inside the starlight streaming in through the windows his skin looked seemingly more pallid than usual-but even the dimness could not wash out the glimmering brightness to his eyes like coagulated mercury. "You are jerking the bow across the strings too roughly; bring the bow across the strings instead gently, like you want to create a harmonious piece of music. Not like you want to cut through the strings with your bow until they snap."

It had been like this for a week, exactly-since they had kissed a week prior that is, and Ciel had indirectly ordered Sebastian never to touch him in such an intimate manner ever again. At first, Sebastian had seemed confused and hurt, and Ciel had spent his time nibbling on his lip unconsciously at times when they inevitably saw each other and then chewing his nails down to bloody nubs when Sebastian dissipated again. That had only been for a day or so though-that hurt and confusion had quickly faded back into bitterness and anger, and instead of tearing up his lips and nails in the times of the day Sebastian went about his normal chores for him, such as waking him up, getting him dressed, and bringing him food-silently, expressionlessly, mechanically, like a robot obeying its embossed computers orders-he found himself instead returning Sebastian's glares and snappy replies resolutely. If dirty, dark stares could literally burn someone they'd both be covered in holes.

Ciel inwardly sighed; relenting with something he'd hesitate to name 'reluctance'. He had to admit, constantly being in an oral and optic war with Sebastian was rather exhausting, and if he didn't have so much stubborn pride he would have put an end to it six days ago. "Like this?"

He lightly drew the bow over the strings, not jerkily and angrily like before but enough to make a flood of coy, harmonious, soothing music bleed softly between them; even Sebastian could not find anything snappy to comment about that, who was silent for so long Ciel began to doubt he'd say anything at all. "Yes, like that. Very good, my Lord."

The moon was a polished shilling in the sky, the brightest and largest star of them all, which meanwhile shimmered and beamed like candle flames in a dark room.

"My goodness," Sebastian commented airily. "Look how high the moon has risen. I suggest you retire now, my Lord, before you made yourself sick."

It was the first time, in just under a week, that his butler had spoken to him without sharpness or rudeness, causing the younger to glance up at him now warily with deep surprise. Sebastian seemed now-unfamiliarly calm.

Ciel nodded once, wearily. "Very well," he allowed, carefully handing the violin over, which Sebastian tucked into its snug, rightful place inside the velveteen-cushioned violin case with a gentle ease. The door to the room was unlocked, and swung open easily under the light pressure of Ciel's hand, granting him his leave.

The bedroom was flooded with a gorgeous silver light, faintly dulling the thick shadows clogging the room in dark clusters; the only illumination, the lit candelabra set on the veneered nightstand, didn't throw its buttery glow very far, which is why the grey-haired boy's intricate features were concealed.

The onyx-clad butler almost camouflaged into the dimness as he weaved swiftly through the room to where his young master already sat on the end of his ivory-sheeted bed, became one with the darkness: but there was a revealing shimmer to his brown eyes, eyes currently as flat as glass. Ciel watched him move despite himself, rapt, curious, entranced, unwillingly envious. It was like watching a cat on hunt, or a shadow passing over a wall: slinky, graceful, silent. _Inhuman._ "Young master, would you allow me to dress you?" A dry tone.

For the past six days, the same monotonous question. Ciel had long before given up trying to coax his butler that he didn't need to ask; it was as pointless as trying to teach an animal how to speak coherently.

He replied the same words he had ever since his solid defeat, with the air of someone reciting the practised lines of a play. "Yes, as your wont."

Sebastian nodded once before collecting his night attire from the ajar wardrobe, draping the silky-soft piece of white fabric over his arm, before stripping the boy down, deliberately careful not to brush his hand against any exposed skin. He was expressionless; silent; unmoving, apart from his nimbly graceful hands that did up each button skilfully, his glittering brown eyes that tracked each movement alertly. Ciel couldn't help but wonder longingly how much easier it would be if he had Sebastian's ability of reading his mind through the Contract-if he knew exactly what was smiting around inside his demon butler's onyx head. A deep yearning, fuelled with curiosity, to know made Ciel sink his teeth into his bottom lip savagely.

"Is something wrong, my Lord?" Sebastian inquired politely-however with that same dry tone that made Ciel want to smack him.

Instead of answering, Ciel reached up and undid the first few buttons of his nightshirt with soft popping noises, which caused a strip of pallid chest to become visible once more. He didn't even know what he was trying to prove, until Sebastian finally looked up at him, slowly, deliberately, and Ciel felt a ripple of satisfaction and triumph; he let his face fold back into a smirk, crossing svelte legs, ironically creamy and smooth, as he leaned back languorously on his delicate petite hands. "Annoyed?"

"Of course not, my Lord." Ciel's smirk faded into an expressionless look as Sebastian merely re-buttoned the shirt without a changing expression; he went back to buttoning the rest of it immediately afterwards, without a flicker of annoyance pressing treacherously to the surface of his face-

And suddenly, Ciel had had enough.

"Kiss me."

The unexpected order rang out softly into the tensed silence between them like an antidote.

Sebastian looked unguardedly startled at the sudden words-the first emotion he'd shown apart from anger in six days. "Master?"

Seized with shyness, Ciel lowered his eyes, cheeks pink, but pushed on resolutely. Lacing his fingers through his, he repeated his order. "Kiss me, Sebastian."

"I cannot..." Sebastian looked bleak; defiant; resigned. "You told me not to, don't you recall?"

Ciel felt heat rising to his face at the reminder, a steady blush that crept all the way down his neck. Sebastian's fingers were unresponsive through his. "Must I make that an order, Sebastian?"

"...No, my Lord." With a strange look glittering about his eyes, Sebastian gently slipped one of his hands free of his master's, not releasing the left one; he drew off his glove alluringly with his teeth before stroking Ciel's baby-soft pearly cheek, causing the shivering human boy to close his eyes-trustfully?-and purr.

"Sebastian," Ciel whispered, voice helplessly thick and soft with desire as much as the boy wished it wasn't, before Sebastian pressed his impeccable mouth against his.

If Ciel had expected himself to get another reel of horror, for his automatic reaction to be for him to pull back and possibly slap his face, he'd been wrong-for Ciel merely _whimpered_ , fingers like claws as they attached into Sebastian's raven hair, and even as Ciel became surprised at his own actions his smaller, softer lips were pressing back on his. He was whispering incoherently against his mouth, a load of meaningful nonsense that unfurled from the unsoiled parts of his very soul and travelled out through his occupied mouth.

Sebastian whispered coherently against his mouth. "You aren't going to push me away this time, are you?"

"Not this time." And damn him now, but it was the truth-damn the grey-haired boy now, but he couldn't resist what he wanted anymore, what his heart and soul and body desired. He was tired of it, tired of keeping up appearances, tired of pretending for the sake of-what? For the sake of what, exactly? Stubbornness long gone, Ciel clung to him like he was a drowning boy and Sebastian was a log adrift on the sea.

They clung to each other for breathless minutes; arms curling and twining and pulling; lips clashing and working; breath shuddering and exhaling; silent endearments bleeding between them like sweet perfume. Ciel didn't want to stop, didn't want to pull away-wanted to remain with his butler like this despite his pride and inhibitions.

But soon air became a problem for the little human, and he broke away reluctantly, placing his forehead on his. Their breath mingled hotly between them-they shivered-and eyes, mismatched and brown, locked and held.

Sebastian lowered them first, nervously. "I love you, young master."

And something happened then that was as remarkable and rare as snow in summer-Ciel Phantomhive, cold and stoic and despaired and angry and hateful Ciel Phantomhive, let his angelic beauty be graced with the presence of a genuine smile. "Please," he whispered. "When we're alone, call me Ciel."

(Author's note: I'm sorry that this chapter was, well, not to the best of my ability and probably crap. I've actually suffered a nasty head-bump recently, and did this chapter while in bed suffering dizziness and the horrible like. Hopefully the next chapter I do will be better! Please review and tell me what you think c: Also, follow me on Instagram please! My username is Ciel._.Marvel._Phantomhive._._ CX~Clary.)


	3. NOT AN UPDATE

This is not an update! However I'm just here to tell you that I haven't given up on this story and I will be updating soon c: I've been battling between fanfictions because of all my plot bunnies. Thank you for reading my story so far and I hope that you will enjoy my new chapter when it is finished!

One last thing is that I changed my Instagram name: it is now ciel._.sebaciel._.phantomhive

please se follow me and I'll follow you back!


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